The Revelation
by ColorOfAngels
Summary: What if India, Mrs. Elsing, and Archie had never walked in on Scarlett and Ashley that day at the mills
1. The Mill

A/N So I did exactly what I promised myself I wouldn't do...I started yet another story...however the plot bunny refused to leave me alone until I wrote it and I couldn't focus on any of my other stories so I had to write it down...I just hope you all like it...

DISCLAIMER: As you will all soon see, I borrow heavily from MM in this chapter even taking some passages directly, simply editing them, paraphrasing, or switching things around to suit my purpose...I don't normally like doing that, but I needed the scene to get me to where I veer off into _what if_ land and I didn't see the point in reinventing the wheel and rewriting what MM did so well in the first place, but I am in no way shape or form, trying to take credit for something I didn't write...

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Scarlett strode cheerfully into the lumber office, happy that keeping Ashley occupied until it was time for his surprise party gave her an excuse to be alone with him all afternoon. She paused in the doorway for a moment watching him as he worked, bent over the desk until he felt her presence and looked up, gracing her with a rare genuine smile.

"Come in, Scarlett. I was just going over the books," he said, standing and walking over to her.

"Oh, don't let's fool with any books this afternoon, Ashley! I just can't be bothered. When I'm wearing a new bonnet, it seems like all the figures I know leave my head."

"Figures are well lost when the bonnet's as pretty as that one," he said. "Scarlett, I do believe that you get prettier all the time!" He told her, taking her hands and spreading them wide so he could see her dress. "You are so pretty! I don't believe you'll ever get old!"

"Oh, Ashley don't tease me. I know I'm getting old and decrepit."

"I'm not Scarlett, even when you are sixty, you'll still look the same to me. I'll always remember you as you were that day of our last barbecue, sitting under an oak with a dozen boys around you. I can even tell you just how you were dressed, in a white dress covered with tiny green flowers and a white lace shawl about your shoulders. You had on little green slippers with black lacings and an enormous leghorn hat with long green streamers. I know that dress by heart because when I was in prison and things got too bad, I'd take out my memories and thumb them over like pictures, recalling every little detail–"

"Do you remember," he said.

And she did remember, she remembered the day of the barbeque like it was yesterday. It was the last day she could remember being completely happy, it was the day her life and world changed forever. She remembered waking up that morning with a single purpose in mind, she remembered riding to Twelve Oaks with her sisters and Pa, she remembered seeing Rhett for the first time in the entrance hall and that look in his eye as he watched her, something he had only perfected over the years, she remembered being surrounded by beaux each one of them desiring her attention more than the next and she remembered the scene in the library. That was the moment her life changed forever. A warning bell in Scarlett's mind sounded. Don't look back! Don't look back! It told her, but for once she didn't listen to it, and she allowed herself to be swept forward.

"Do you remember..." under the spell of his voice the bare walls of the little office faded and the years rolled aside and they were riding country bridle paths together in a long-gone spring.

As he spoke, his light grip tightened on her hand and in his voice was the sad magic of old half-forgotten songs. She could hear the gay jingle of bridle bits as they rode under the dogwood trees to the Tarletons' picnic, hear her own careless laughter, see the sun glinting on his silver-gilt hair and note the proud easy grace with which he sat his horse. There was music in his voice, the music of fiddles and banjos to which they had danced in the white house that was no more. There was the far-off yelping of possum dogs in the dark swamp under cool autumn moons and the smell of eggnog bowls, wreathed with holly at Christmas time and smiles on black and white faces. And old friends came trooping back, laughing as though they had not been dead these many years: Stuart and Brent with their long legs and their red hair and their practical jokes, Tom and Boyd as wild as young horses, Joe Fontaine with his hot black eyes, and Cade and Raiford Calvert who moved with such languid grace. There was John Wilkes, too; and Gerald, red with brandy; and a whisper and a fragrance that was Ellen. Over it all rested a sense of security, a knowledge that tomorrow could only bring the same happiness today had brought.

His voice stopped and they looked for a long quiet moment into each other's eyes and between them lay the sunny lost youth that they had so unthinkingly shared.

"We've come a long way since those days, Ashley," she said, trying to steady her voice, trying to fight the constriction in her throat. "We had fine notions then, didn't we?"

Her heart was suddenly dull with pain, with weariness, as she thought of the long road she had come since those days. There rose up in her mind the memory of Scarlett O'Hara who loved beaux and pretty dresses and who intended, some day, when she had the time, to be a great lady like Ellen. Without warning, tears started in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks and she stood looking at him dumbly, like a hurt bewildered child.

"Oh, Ashley, nothing has turned out as we expected!"

He said no word but took her gently in his arms, pressed her head against his shoulder and, leaning down, laid his cheek against hers. She relaxed against him and her arms went round his body. The comfort of his arms helped dry her sudden tears.

She was slightly surprised with her self when she realized how good it felt to be in his arms, without passion, without tenseness, to be there as an old beloved friend. But then Ashley pulled away slightly tilting her chin up with his hand so that he could gaze into her emerald eyes. Before Scarlett realized what was happening his lips were on hers and his arms tightened around her waist.

At first her mind exploded with happiness. This was the very thing that she had yearned for, hungered for, ever since that cold day in the orchard at Tara so many years ago, ever since the day she had cornered him in the library on the day of the last barbeque. But then she noticed that something wasn't quite right, her heart wasn't beating hard with passion and her body wasn't a tremble with excitement as it used to be with just his very presence. It came to her as a sudden shock that she didn't really want him kissing her at all. All she wanted was comfort from an old friend who shared her memories and her youth, who knew her beginnings and her present and could understand what they had mutually lost.

She didn't know what this meant but it deeply disturbed her as she pulled out of his embrace and turned her face away with a quiet, "No Ashley," escaping her lips.

As if he had just realized what he was doing, his arms dropped to his sides abruptly and he stumbled back a few feet stuttering an awkward apology. The very air seemed to go out of the room as they both stood there in silence, neither of them looking at each other, wrapped in a heavy blanket of tension.

After a long moment Scarlett looked up at the man standing in front of her and was genuinely surprised at what she saw. It was not her Ashley that was standing in front of her, young and shining with his golden hair bright in the sun light as he squired her about the county. This was not the boy that came riding up the red dirt road, recently home from his grand tour, that would sit on the porch of Tara with her for hours reading her poetry that she pretended to be interested in. It wasn't the same clear gray eyes that she saw when she closed her own, that were now staring ashamedly at the floor. No, this was a different Ashley, a solemn old stranger with silver gray hair. A defeated and resigned man with tortured eyes that couldn't accept the hand that fate had dealt him.

"I apologize for my actions Scarlett, I don't know what came over me," Ashley explained lamely staring at some undistinguishable spot on the floor.

_He can't even bear to look at me,_ Scarlett realized as she took in his anguished expression, the lines of age deeply etched into his pale countenance. His reaction to her and to his own actions struck her as cowardly, but she didn't feel anger towards him for this. No, she only felt two things that she never wanted anyone to feel for her and rarely felt for anyone else. Pity and an odd sense of kindness.

"You shouldn't look back Ashley, it does no good but to tear at your heart until all you can do is look back. And if all you do is look back then you can't see the present and you can't prepare for the future," Scarlett said quietly in a rare moment insight, choosing to ignore the kiss that had transpired between them for the time being as she herself didn't know what to make of it or of her indifference to it. "The world we grew up in is gone Ashley, and no amount of yearning is ever going to bring it back and you're not doing yourself or anyone else in your life any favors by refusing to accept that."

Again they stood in silence, Scarlett staring at Ashley and Ashley staring anywhere but at Scarlett.

Scarlett found herself unable to face the harsh reality of what had become of the man she loved, she did still love him...right? The walls of the small room seemed to be closing in and the air felt heavy and oppressive and she had a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I should go," Scarlett finally said, turning and making her way out of the office. She paused in the doorway, but didn't turn around. "I trust that we never need to speak about what happened today, it was a mistake and shall never happen again." She didn't expect or wait for a response before continuing out to the lumber yard.

She was climbing into her carriage when India, Archie and Mrs. Elsing drove up, coming to collect Ashley and take him to his party. She gave a mechanical nod of greeting before giving Pork the go ahead to drive off. She sank back into her seat and closed her eyes, thankful to be getting away from the mill, completely baffled by what had transpired and only giving a cursory thought to how disastrous it could have been if the others had arrived ten minutes earlier.

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A/N So what did you all think? Is it worth continuing? 


	2. The Party

A/N Here is chapter two...I wrote a lot of this chapter from Rhett's perspective which is completely new for me so hopefully it works alright...

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Scarlett sat at her vanity dressed in only her chemise staring at the sliver backed brush she held in her hand, not really seeing it at all. She was so deep in thought, replaying the afternoon over and over in her head, that she didn't even hear the knock on the door or it opening a moment later when she gave no response.

"Scarlett, why aren't you ready? It's time to leave," Rhett called from the doorway.

"What?" Scarlett asked in surprise, unsure of how long he had been standing there or how long she had been lost in thought.

"The reception...You know, the party you have been helping to plan," Rhett replied sarcastically.

"Oh," Scarlett responded quietly. She had been so thrown by what had happen at the Mill she had forgotten the reason she had even gone. "Actually Rhett, I have a bit of a headache, I think I might just stay home tonight."

"What?" Rhett asked, genuinely surprised. "Do you mean to tell me that Scarlett O'Hara Butler is actually passing up a rare opportunity to show off in front of all the old cats of Atlanta? Are you feeling ill my pet? Well I suppose you are, that is what you just told me, but it must be more serious than a mere headache to keep you away from your beloved Ashley."

Scarlett wasn't listening to what he said, but could gather the gist of it solely from his mocking tone and chose not to respond as she really had developed a headache and didn't feel like arguing.

Rhett was watching her expression in the mirror intently and for one of the few times since he had known her, didn't know quite what to make of it. She had obviously been in deep contemplation when he had walked in, something that was strange for Scarlett in of itself and now she didn't rise to his bait, not even when he took a jab at Ashley Wilkes. Something was going on with his wife and he was determined to find out what.

"No, I think we shall go to the reception tonight," Rhett announced a moment later figuring it would be the best place for him to watch her and find out what was wrong with her. "Every important Democrat in the city will be there tonight and it will be well of us to make an appearance, if only for Bonnie's sake."

"If you insist," Scarlett said simply, making no move to actually get ready.

Rhett saw this and walked into her closet to choose something for her to wear himself. After a moment of deliberation he choose a stunning, but surprisingly simple and tasteful royal blue and black evening gown.

"Here, wear this," he said tossing the dress onto her bed. "You might actually look the part of a lady tonight."

Scarlett just watched him in the mirror as he walked out of her room to get someone to help her dress.

They were both silent on the short ride to the Wilkes's home. Scarlett was staring out the window of the closed carriage and Rhett was observing his wife. As their destination came into view, Rhett watched as her whole demeanor, from her posture to her expression, change as she put on her public facade.

A gentle smile graced her lips as she allowed him to help her from the carriage, but her eyes remained troubled as she took his arm and they walked up the path to the front door. Upon entering they were greeted immediately by Melanie who rushed to Scarlett's side.

"Hello Scarlett darling, you look so beautiful tonight," Melanie complemented as she gave Scarlett a hug.

"Thank you Melly, you look lovely tonight as well," Scarlett replied sincerely as she stepped forward to return her embrace.

"Captain Butler, I'm so glad you have joined us this evening," Melanie greeted.

"The pleasure is all mine Mrs. Wilkes," Rhett said with a warm smile.

"Ashley dear, aren't you going to say hello?" Melanie asked as she turned around to see her husband standing a couple steps behind her.

"Oh course, hello Captain Butler, Scarlett," Ashley said awkwardly as he stepped forward to give Scarlett a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

However both men noticed, Ashley with hurt and guilt, Rhett with interest and curiosity, that Scarlett quickly backed away almost as soon as Ashley's lips brushed against her cheek, retreating back to her husband's side, then backing up yet another half pace when Ashley leaned in to shake Rhett's hand.

Luckily for Scarlett she was spared any further awkward conversation due to the fact that the Meades chose that moment to arrive and Melanie excused herself with promises to chat with Scarlett later in the night.

Rhett worked the room with ease, chatting with acquittances from the bank or the old guard families that now accepted him as one of their own, but all the while keeping one eye on his the green eyed minx he called his wife. She two worked the room like a seasoned professional and she too was keeping an eye on someone.

He could have dragged her out of the party by her hair when he first caught her watching Ashley Wilkes while she was talking to Maybelle Picard, but then he noticed the look in her eyes. It wasn't the usual lost puppy adoration but something distinctly different. It was with confusion and something else that if he had to put a word to it, he would call disenchantment and perhaps a twinge of...disappointment? But that simply made no sense and he decided that he must be misreading her expression

It also did not escape him that while she watched her beloved avidly, seemingly tracking all of his movements, she never made any attempt to get a moment alone with him or even talk to him at all. In fact it seemed like she made an effort to keep as far away from him as possible and still be in the same room.

He was even more confused when she approached him still early in the evening.

"Rhett?" she said, putting a small hand on his arm.

"Yes?" he responded, turning away from his conversation with old Mr. Merriwether to look down at her.

"My head is aching something awful," she told him. "Would you mind terribly if we went home early?"

He looked her up and down quickly, it was clear to him that she was lying but she didn't look completely well either. "Of course Scarlett," he said agreeably, before turning to Mr. Merriwether who gave a quick nod of approval and farewell. "Let's just say our goodbyes."

"I already made our excuses to Melly," Scarlett replied slipping her hand through his elbow. "We can just go."

"So my pet, are you going to tell me the real reason why we are on our way home at this early hour?" he questioned her once they were tucked away in their carriage and on the short ride home.

"I told you," she said turning her head from where she was staring out the window, "I have a headache."

Rhett didn't say anything but would be lying if he said he wasn't perplexed that Scarlett wanted to leave so early and in such a hurry. They rode the rest of the way in silence, Rhett watching Scarlett and Scarlett trying to pretend she didn't notice. She didn't even wait for Pork to come around to hand her out of the carriage before she hopped out on her own and practically fled up to her bedroom without a backwards glance. As he watched her climb the stairs Rhett decided that he was definitely in the need of a stiff drink before retiring.

As Rhett walked to his room after a few glasses of whiskey, he could hear Scarlett's heels pacing back and fourth behind her own closed bedroom door. He knew that she was probably itching for her nightly two and a half glasses of brandy, since she had only imbibed in one glass of port at the party and that she was waiting for him to go to bed, since she liked to pretend that he didn't know about her habit.

It was barely five minutes after he had closed his door, loud enough that she would hear, that he heard her door open as she flew down the stairs. He decided to give her a fifteen minute head start before following after her.

He stood silently in the door way as a single candle backlit her. She was sitting in the center of one of the long sides of the table with one arm extended flat and her head placed upon it so that she was shielding her face and the glass from his view in the door.

"What have I told you about drinking alone?" Rhett quipped from the doorway.

"That someone will always find out," she finished to his amusement.

However, Rhett's smirk quickly faded when she sat up and looked at him revealing...a half eaten piece of cake?

"But what's the policy on Red Velvet?" Scarlett asked.

"I don't suppose there is one," Rhett recovered after standing in stunned silence for a moment. "But I must admit I'm surprised my pet. Why the sudden and drastic change in your nightly consumption?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I'm sure you do," Rhett replied, "but I will clarify if it makes you feel better. I am asking dear Scarlett, where your customary glass of brandy is?"

She gave him a hard look before sighing and declaring candidly, "Brandy doesn't exactly go with cake, now does it?"

Rhett chuckled as he admired her honesty. "No, I suppose it doesn't. Do you mind if I join you while I partake in a glass myself?" he asked, feeling the sudden desire for yet another glass, as he moved to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of the fine whiskey that was his personal preference.

"It's your house too," Scarlett replied with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.

"So you still haven't told me, why the cake?"

"I wanted it, is there something wrong with that?" she said defensively, further piquing Rhett's curiosity.

What Rhett couldn't know, was that this was a habit reemerging from the time when Scarlett was a young girl growing up in Clayton County. Whenever she was upset or just needed some time to think away from her sisters, or even Mammy, she would steal away into the kitchen where the cook, an old darky woman named Delilah, would cut her a big piece of what ever cake she had on hand and leave her alone to sit at the kitchen table so that she could sit and eat in peace.

She had had to abandon this practice during the war out of necessity and afterwards she had switched from baked goods to hard liquor as her choice of catharsis. But tonight was different, she had been pacing back and forth in her room with every intention of downing half a decanter of brandy before she went to sleep, but her stomach revolted at the very thought. Then she remembered the red velvet cake that the children had enjoyed as dessert earlier that day.

Rhett didn't respond, but simply watched his wife with a critical eye, as he might watch a stranger. They sat together as Rhett drank one glass and then another, but Scarlett found that she couldn't enjoy her cake or do her thinking under his scrutinizing and ever constant gaze.

Her chair screeched as the legs scratched off of the luxurious rug and across the wood floor as she stood up suddenly, surprising them both.

"I'm going to bed," she announced. "Well...goodnight."

She walked past him on her way out of the dining room, but paused once she had reached the doorway. Rhett could tell from her posture that she was hesitating about something, but decided to wait in silence until she made up her mind.

After a moment Scarlett turned around and with a purpose in her step and her shoulders squared, she marched back into the dining room, picked up her half eaten piece of cake and walked back out of the room without another glance at Rhett.

Rhett waited until he heard her door close before he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. He didn't know what to think as he watched the amber liquid as he swirled it in his glass. He had always prided himself on the fact that he knew his wife better than she knew herself and that he always knew what she would do and say in any given situation before even she did. But today he could no more predict her than he could a stranger. It was like she came back from the mill this afternoon a different person.

"The mill..." he groaned as he gave himself a mental slap for not realizing it earlier, "of course, something happened at the mill today." But what could have happened to make Scarlett act the way she was acting, was what he couldn't figure out. However, he was determined to talk to her the next day and find out.

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A/N So what did you all think? I thought it would be fun to play on the actual events of the book and twist them around to fit the new circumstances...the next chapter will be more of Scarlett's POV and explain just what she is thinking about all of this and what conclusions she is coming too about the mill incident... 


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